


hound attack

by Sketchii



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Everyone else tagged is just kind in the background, Fluff, M/M, Main characters are Max & Wilson, Major Character Injury, Sickfic, Well Wickerbottom talks a bit but, idk the hounds fuck them up, well sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchii/pseuds/Sketchii
Summary: Too busy arguing with each other, Maxwell and WIlson don't seem to notice the oncoming hound attack.





	hound attack

**Author's Note:**

> okay they're kinda OOC in the start, I dunno if they'd actually fight thAt much but this is my first piece of writing for them so

“Oh come on, we've argued about this at least well over one hundred times in the past, surely you've gotten over it by now” Maxwell groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. 

“Well obviously those other hundred arguments didn't get my point through your head so I figured I might as well try it again”

“And has it worked yet?”

“Well, no. But there's always next time” Wilson joked, he couldn't stop the slight chuckle of amusement from coming out. Try as he might, he's never been particularly good at staying mad during arguments. 

Though this feeling of amusement was quickly replaced when the sharp feeling of pain on both of their earlobes quickly drew them away from their fight. 

“If you two idiots could stop arguing and start helping that would be lovely” Ms. Wickerbottom said sternly, removing her pinching grip on their ears when she had their attention. 

“If you were listening instead of fighting you would have known that we were in need of some twigs for the fence we will be building around the bees”

“Surely the children coul-” Wilson stopped himself when her frown somehow deepened. 

“The children are busy actually helping, unlike you two. So off you go” she said, pushing Chester’s eyebone into Maxwell's hand before leaving them. 

As soon as she left Maxwell quickly shoved the eyebone into Wilson's hands, mumbling something about ‘the despicable orange nuisance’ and he walked off into the woods. 

Wilson sighed in exasperation overdramatically before catching up with Maxwell, Chester followed not too far behind. 

“Say pal, do you know where we'll be getting these twigs from?” The magician asked. 

Wilson scowled at the nickname - if you could call it that - and begrudgingly answered.  
“We haven't started the sapling farm up yet, so just look around” 

“Awfully moody today, aren't you?” Maxwell jeered, veering off the path to collect some twigs. 

“Yeah, thanks to you and your stupid decisions”

“I do believe I have told you over one hundred times now, I didn't have any control over my actions on the throne. I do recall you being the one to build that machine though” He said harshly. 

“Surely you had even an ounce of control of the situation. Don't you see how much of a living hell you put all of us through?”. Wilson sighed when he noticed that he had accidentally snapped a few of the sticks in frustration. 

“Higgsbury” 

“No, the least you could do is actually apologize to us for everything you put us through. I mean come on.” At this point he was less arguing and more just venting out loud. 

_“Wilson you idiot”_ Maxwell hissed, grabbing his shoulders. 

“What?” he snapped pushing the taller males hands off of him. 

_ **“Listen!”** _

“Okay, I'm listening. I've waited years for this apolo-” he was interrupted by Maxwell clamping his hand over his mouth. 

“Listen to the sounds around you, you blithering fool!” He said sharply.

A few moments passed and Wilson's ears began to pick up on a noise. A low growling?

_Oh._

Oh shit. Hounds.

He didn't have any real way of fighting against the hounds that were surely going to be arriving soon, the camp was too far to run to in time and it was just him and Maxwell out here. Wonderful. 

Wilson rummaged through his backpack, fishing out an axe. It'll have to do. “Okay I'll try to distract them, you run to camp and see if anyone is there” 

“Higgsbury you need to stop acting like a hero, it's getting on my nerves. You're not invincible you know” Maxwell grumbled, conjuring up a sword that looked as though it was made by the shadows. 

Wilson widened his eyes at the slightly translucent sword. “I could fight them off with that while you run”

The magician laughed at him. “Your brain would be incapable of wielding such a weapon, I'd give you a minute most before it would drive you insane” 

They didn't have any time to continue their discussion before the first hound came at them, followed by the second and third. 

And before long the pair were quickly overwhelmed by five of the black snarling vicious creatures. 

At first Maxwell seemed apprehensive about stabbing into the hound that ran at him. After all, he did create them. Hell, he even had one of his own as a pet of sorts on the throne. 

However, he quickly changed his mind when one of the cursed things sunk its teeth into his arm. Sentimentality when straight out of the metaphorical window and with his free hand he drove the sword into the hound’s throat.

It let go of his arm and whimpered as he cut into it. It died from the wounds quite quickly.

With his arm burning in pain he moved onto the next one, and then the next one and so on and so forth. However, he could only count four bodies when there were initially five hounds. 

He turned around to see Wilson, on the ground, attempting to beat a hound to death with an axe. He was almost going to go help the stupid scientist until the hound finally succumbed to it's wounds.

“Higgsbury, why are you on the ground?” Maxwell asked walking over to him.

“Oh it's nothing, just a small bite” He laughed, though it sounded forced. He seemed to be preoccupied with trying to pull the axe out of the hounds chest, he gave up after a bit.

Wilson definitely looked the worst out of the two. His face was scratched up, his arms bitten and his clothes torn. 

Maxwell rolled his eyes and held out his hand to try and assist him in standing up, Wilson hesitated for a moment before taking the offer. 

He allowed himself to be mostly pulled up due to the fact that the lower half of his left leg was now searing with almost blinding pain.

Once he was up, Wilson attempted to start walking but he stumbled and almost fell. Thankfully he didn't fall back into a pitiful heap on the ground, though that was only because Maxwell caught him from falling. 

“Okay pal, we need to get you back to camp as you obviously require medical attention”

“Does it look like I can walk?”

“Does it pain you to be this daft all the time?” Maxwell smirked, and before Wilson completely registered what was going on, he was being carried in the magician's arms. 

“H-hey!” Wilson complained, though there wasn't much fire left behind his voice anymore. 

“Be quiet, we'll be at camp soon” Maxwell spoke calmly, though he attempted to hide it, he sounded worried. Maxwell leaned down — without dropping Wilson which genuinely surprised him as the magician certainly wasn't known for his strength — to grab the backpack on the ground along with Chester's eyebone. 

Wilson sighed and rested his head against the taller man's chest, he was too tired and in pain to care. His face flushed in embarrassment at the whole situation, he was being carried as if he was a child. Everyone in camp was going to see him like this, so pathetic that he couldn't even walk back himself. Damn it, he should have been more prepared. Who knows how long this injury is going to put him out of commission for? 

The walk back to camp was really just a blur for Wilson due to all the blood loss. He knows that his leg is hurt badly, though he doesn't know exactly how bad that is. It felt as though the hound tore through his leg with an insane amount of ease, like a hot knife through butter. 

Wilson was pulled back into reality when he was placed — more gently than he would have expected — down onto a bedroll. 

For a moment he was thankful that nobody else was around to witness him being this pathetic and weak. But then he realized that if nobody else was around then that meant that Maxwell was going to have to treat his wounds. The man who has barely become accustomed to living as a human again. _Oh god._ He was surely going to die. 

Maxwell looked more worried than Wilson would have expected but he noticed the scientist looking at him his expression quickly changed. 

“How do I go about fixing your injury?” Maxwell asked and Wilson laughed at the way his question was phrased. 

“Okay uh, I need something to press on it and some water to wash it out… Maybe honey poultice if we've got it, perhaps some pain killers too?” That last one earned him a short laugh and Maxwell went off to gather the supplies, mumbling under his breath again. 

Before long Maxwell came back with what he hoped was everything he'd asked for. While the magician was gone, Wilson had removed his torn up pants and located the wound on his lower left leg. It was a lot deeper than he initially thought and it would most likely require a few stitches. The thought of it alone made him wince. 

Maxwell knelt down to his level and handed him some silk, he also placed the water and honey poultice down. 

Wilson took the silk and pressed it to his leg, he took in a sharp breath of pain and bit down on his lower lip because holy shit that hurt. That may have been the most pain he'd ever felt in his life, though he doubts it'll be the most pain he'll ever feel. Considering that the constant really just loves to one-up itself. 

Once the blood began to clot, he removed the blood-soaked silk away from his leg. Maxwell picked up the container of water. 

“Did you boil that?” Wilson asked. 

“Was I supposed to?” 

Wilson sighed, putting his hand on his face, which was a _stupid_ idea because there's no doubt that there is now more blood smeared across his face. 

“We're trying to wash out any infections Maxwell, if you pour that water on my leg it'll do more harm than good” 

Maxwell simply nodded and he loaded more wood onto the campfire to begin boiling the water. He also went off to fetch Wickerbottom’s sewing kit because as much as Wilson didn't want to, he was going to need it. 

Maxwell silently sat beside him again, this time with the boiled water and sewing kit. Wilson did what he could to sterilize the needle via whatever means possible whilst Maxwell washed out the wound with the water and some silk. It was incredibly painful but inevitably worth it in the long run. 

However, the most painful thing he'd experience that day was when he began to stitch his skin back together again. He'd hoped that his leg would have been even slightly numbed by all the pain by now, but he couldn't have been more wrong.

When the needle pierced through his skin Wilson could barely contain a yell of pain, and all the dizziness from the blood loss seemed to intensify. 

The entire process was a hazy mess and at some point, Maxwell would have taken over as Wilson passed out from a combination of blood loss and pain.

——

When Wilson awoke the sun had almost set, and there was a spider child trying to pry his eyes open. He also became aware of voices talking and the throbbing pain in his leg. 

He also had pants on which was a pleasant surprise, though they weren't the same torn up ones as before. He slowly sat up, holding his head in his hand as the blood rush made him feel dizzy again. 

“Dear, he could have slept for a bit longer still” Wickerbottom gently scolded the child. 

“Sorry, we just wanted to make sure he was okay” Webber explained. Wendy who was sitting next to him nodded along. 

“Alright you two, go fetch him something to eat” she asked, pushing the children gently along. The pair walked off without an argument.

Wilson looked around the camp, he was still laying on a bedroll next to the fire — which was still covered in blood, a shame, really, as they'd have to burn it due to it being unsanitary and no longer usable — while everyone else in camp seemed to be doing their own things. Willow and Wigfrid were chatting over their dinner, Winona was tinkering with a machine she'd built recently and Maxwell was nowhere in sight. Which was a shame because he wanted to thank him. 

“What were you thinking, heading out there with nothing to protect yourselves?” Wickerbottom hissed suddenly, though she couldn't hold her irritated expression very well. So really, she looked less scary and more concerned. But Wilson wouldn't comment on that. 

“Maxwell had his sword though” he pointed out.

“And yet you only had an axe, without him you would have been dead. Please, try to think about these things more carefully”

After a few moments of silence, she continued more softly this time. 

“What would we have done without our favourite scientist?” 

Wilson raised his eyebrows at that, she's really trying stepping up her guilt game, _huh?_

“Okay, I'll be more careful” he responded slowly. She smiled at that. 

“How's your leg feeling, dear?” she asked. 

“It hurts but it's not bleeding anymore so that's good. Speaking of that, where did Maxwell go off to?” He questioned. 

Ms. Wickerbottom shrugged at that. “He left after we came back, briefly told us what happened and wandered off back into the forest to collect those twigs I’d assume”

“Damn, I wanted to thank him for helping me” Wilson murmured, fiddling with a small rock on the ground. 

The children came back and Wendy set a serving of meatballs down on his bedroll. He thanked her and she nodded before sitting next to Wickerbottom and Webber as she ate her own dinner. 

Wilson ate his own serving of dinner quietly as he continued to survey camp. It was getting late so people were starting to settle in for the night. Winter would be arriving soon, they could feel the cold in the brisk winds that went through their camp of nighttime. The temperature was steadily dropping and within two weeks they should be back in that frozen nightmare. 

Winter was still an unpleasant thing to deal with for a large number of reasons. However, the main thing that made it so unbearable was his trip through maxwell’s gate into one of the other worlds. Those were miserable memories he’d rather not dwell on. 

After dinner, Ms. Wickerbottom led the children to their tent for the night and she settled in herself. Leaving Wilson sitting by the campfire, waiting for Maxwell to attempt to sneak back in. 

Surprisingly though, he didn’t try to sneak back at all. In fact, he walked right into the camp and over to Wilson. Maxwell had a very asleep Chester in his arms which surprised him even more. 

“I thought you hated Chester, last time I recalled he was an _‘orange nuisance’_” Wilson teased. 

“It grew on me slightly, and it was tired so it was following a little more slowly than I would have liked” Maxwell said, placing the furball in Wilson’s lap. 

“Come on, you'd best be getting to bed now” Maxwell said, a little more gently. He helped the scientist up off of the stained bedroll to his tent. 

Wilson didn’t really know why he was acting like this but he wasn’t going to complain. He was too tired to do any arguing or questioning. So instead he just leaned against Maxwell, as his leg was far too sore to put his full weight on. He pressed his face into Chester, who was in his arms. 

“What were you doing out there?” Wilson asked quietly, his voice muffled slightly by Chester's fur. 

“Getting those twigs we needed” He responded.

Wilson made a noise of acknowledgment and he opened the tent, climbing onto his very familiar bedroll. He hoped the wound on his leg wouldn’t bleed through the silk. 

“Hey, was the bedroll I bled all over yours?” The scientist asked when he got himself into his makeshift bed. 

Maxwell nodded slowly. “Yes but I’ll be fine without it tonight, I can work on a new one tomorrow” He began to move away from the tent, letting the flaps begin to slowly close. 

“Maxwell that’s stupid, just sleep in mine tonight”

The magician responded by shaking his head.

“_Max, c'mon_” Wilson pleaded. “You can't sleep without something under you, you'll freeze to death”

Maxwell waited a moment before sighing and giving in. “Fine, but only because I want to make sure you don’t bleed out on us in the middle of the night because you stupidly knocked your leg on something”

“As if I’d be that stupid” Wilson laughed. 

Maxwell rolled his eyes and climbed into the tent, sitting awkwardly beside Wilson. The scientist snorted “You know you’re allowed to sleep, right?” He lifted the blankets up. 

“Well, yes. But I'm here to watch you”

“Creepy”

Maxwell smacked him on the arm and slid underneath the blankets alongside Wilson. It went rather quiet after that, and for a few minutes, the only sound that could be heard was their breathing as they laid on their backs, sides slightly touching. It was probably the most human contact either had had in a long while. And Wilson didn’t want to admit it but he was loving every second of it. He could feel Chester settled down by his legs.

He flipped over onto his side so that he was facing Maxwell, in order to see if the other was asleep — he wasn’t. 

“Hi” Wilson mumbled.

“Hi” Was the response he got as Maxwell turned over to face him.

“Thanks for fixing up my leg today, I might have bled out without you” He admitted, affection seeped into his voice.

“Nonsense, you’re a smart scientist you would have figured it out” The magician laughed slightly, hot puffs of air brushed against Wilson’s face, making him smile. 

Wilson closed his eyes, happily giving into his body’s demands for sleep. The added warmth radiating off of Maxwell also seemed to make him more sleepy. Perhaps he ought to bleed out all over Max’s bedroll more often. He thought to himself, laughing gently.


End file.
